It’s very weird how small memories come to me about my children, because they come at the strangest times. This one came today when I was taking a French-speaking exam. I was thinking, “Oh man, am I going to be able to remember all the pronunciation of these words, and am I going to remember the script?” And almost like a flash of light, I could see in my mind’s eye, my youngest child Kelsey, (who will be 18-years-old this Halloween) when she was about four.
It was a bright summer day in Texas, and hot. I made the kids go outside for awhile, because they were watching too much TV. Chase, (my son who is 23 and in the army now) was playing with his buddies. I think it was cowboys and indians, or something like that, and Kelsey, who was his shadow since she could walk, followed the troupe out the door. Not but ten minutes later, she came in, crying with the biggest crocodile tears she could muster.
“I a big boy mommy, right?” she asked me to confirm through the heebie geebies, and sniffles.
I looked at her for a moment before I called Chase in. “Chase, what did you say to your sister?”
Chase lowered his eyes, “Mom, she’s not a boy like us! She can’t come and play guns and stuff.”
Now her statement made sense. My heart ache for her as I watched the big tears fall down her cheeks. She loved her brother so much, that she wanted to go everywhere with him. Yet, he was getting to the moment in his young life that he wanted to hang out with his own friends without little baby sister in tow.
Cuddling my littlest up in my arms, we sat down in front of Nick, Jr. and Spongebob as I waited for her to be okay. I dried her face and kissed her, and told her I loved her. She was still for a moment, before she patted my arm and said, “Momma why did God make me girl?”
The question said in so much innocence caused me to pause. How was I to answer this? Taking a deep breath, I replied, “Well God has a special plan for you, but as a girl. There are probably things you are supposed to do, that if you were a boy, you wouldn’t be able to accomplish them.”
She is a bright one, and I could see her mind wheeling. She was digesting that tidbit, soaking it in. Another couple of minutes passed, and then she patted my arm again. “Momma, can I go back to God and change it?” she asked with so much determination.
I quietly laughed to myself. “No baby, God’s mind is kinda made up at this point.”
Well I know you are asking how this story and my French exam could have anything in common. That’s what I asked myself too. It wasn’t until this afternoon, that the answer came. My life has been difficult, and when I found myself in trouble, I would stand there with God and demanded that it be changed. He would wipe my tears and said, “No, my mind is kinda made up at this point!” So when I was complaining quietly about the French exam, it was his friendly reminder that I was on the right path, and I just need to buck up and study a little harder. French History is where I’m supposed to be, and there is no going back to God and changing it.